RESIN DRENCHED
My mom worked full time as a pharmacist, so dad was at home with me from when I was little. He started out doing ding repairs just after I was born, and then moved onto shaping. My childhood memories are filled with running out to the “shaping room” – our shed in the backyard – and eventually there was a well-worn path between the shed and the house.
These memories are still tinged with the smell of resin. Dad converted our garage into a glassing room and the fumes were always creeping out, thick and heavy, but I loved it!
When I was around six, dad did a stint with
